I rely on neighbourly neighbourliness.

I search the fridge in some agitation. Milk is nowhere to be seen. Without milk I am unable to make tea, and without making tea I will be unable to drink it.

My search is fruitless, and also pointless as I know very well that we have no milk. I used the last of the milk a while back, whilst making tea. And I have forgotten to go to the Village Shop to replace it. Boooooooo – we have no milk!!! Life is not good after all, what with not having any milk. Boooooooo!!!

The nearest milk is a six-mile round trip away. I really do not want to drive six miles for a single pint of milk.

I stomp into the lounge. “Do we need anything else from the shop?” I demand of the LTLP. We rack our brains. Driving six miles for a single item is ludicrous, and would be bad for the environment. But if we needed two items then that would make the trip a bit more worthwhile, and be only half as bad for the environment. We cannot think of a single extra thing we need aside from the milk.

I swallow my pride.

“Iwasjustwondering,” I mumble, as Short Tony answers the door, “ificouldborrowabitofmilk.”

“Again,” I add, a little shamefacedly.

Short Tony gracefully assents to my request. “Good oh!” I exclaim, bringing out a large jug from behind my back.

Milk!!! We have some milk!!! Thanks to the generosity and good-spiritedness of our neighbours, I will be able to make a nice cup of tea!!!

There are no teabags.

I stare, boggle-eyed at the teabag tin. No matter how hard I look, it remains a nothingness void of teabags. I grip the tin in astonishment and fury; astonishment because clearly this is a particularly annoying time to discover a lack of teabags; fury because I now distinctly recall using the last teabag for the same cup of tea for which I used the last of the milk (see above). The LTLP is unimpressed.

“Are you SURE we don’t need anything else from the shop?” I demand. I really do not want to do a six-mile round trip just for one item (teabags). If I required two items (eg, teabags and milk) then it might be worthwhile, but that journey for a single item would be ludicrous.

“Thankyoueversomuch,” I mumble at Mrs Big A, as she hands over teabags. “I would have gone next door again. But I was a bit embarrassed.”

I take my kindly donated teabags. I have to hurry past Short Tony’s house on my way back. I sort of cover my face with my hands so he won’t see me and come out and call me an idiot.

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35 thoughts on “I rely on neighbourly neighbourliness.”

I feel your pain. We are presently out of skimmed milk which I drink – my husband food shops – but we would never ever be out of tea, in any shape or form, as my husband is a tea addict. Oh well half skimmed on the muesli then and inches on the hips.

It’s for just this reason that I gave up milk in tea and coffee decades ago. I will not be ruled by the tyranny of the milk jug. I can’t imagine running out of tea. I’ve got at least six spare boxes of tea in the cupboard.

But you had THREE things to go to the shops for, silly boy! Tea, milk to replace the BORROWED milk from ST, and milk for you, as a jug isn’t going to last forever. And I bet the chickens are all out of french fancies too, come to that!

Dear Jonny,
For shame—I, a Yank, NEVER run
out of tea. I’m sure you will insinuate that it is not a “proper cuppa” however instead of milk I add vodka and ice! Perfect on a summer day!
Oh, and what happened to the running?You could have been there and back within a 1/2 hour and no worries for the enviroment?! I think someone is getting a little to comfortable with all your fame!!!

Poor baby. No tea when you really really want a cup is the worst thing ever.

I do miss living in the country (can’t afford it around here) but I do not miss the 2-mile hike to the nearest shop. I do appreciate living in town and being able to nip to the corner shop (couple of hundred yards maybe, open til 9pm, does semi-skim and ordinary teabags) and the Co-op (not that much further, open til 11pm, does skim milk and Earl Grey) or even Sainsbury’s (half a mile or so down the hill, skim milk, goats milk and Darjeeling). Even better, I can send my children to fetch things.

We used to run out of milk regularly so decided to keep a carton of UHT in the cupboard for emergencies (although we’d have to be really desperate – we’re not French). Then we got a bread maker, which always meant at the very least we’d have some milk powder.

How long do you think it took before we ran out of all 3 at once??

We get it delivered now at double the price of the shops and in the sort of quantities that I am forced to make teenage daughters drink hot chocolate in the evenings just to use the milk up.

Okay, just so you don’t think I am a total waste of space – I do not drink Earl Grey, that’s the province of my dear husband and a couple of sons. Me and son-in-the-middle like Darjeeling, aka the champagne of teas. My mother and father recoil in disgust at my idea of a nice cuppa, refer to it as dishwater, and bring their own bags of Sainsbury’s Red Label when they come to call.